


Boats and Birds

by snasational



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Porn, DreamMare - Freeform, Dreamtale Nightmare Sans - Freeform, Dreamtale Sans, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Vaginal Sex, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Xtale Sans | Cross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snasational/pseuds/snasational
Summary: “You really let anyone touch your wings nowadays, don’t you my dear brother?”
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 182





	Boats and Birds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avosettas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/gifts).



> WEEKS IN THE MAKING! I hope you guys enjoy~
> 
> Not Beta'd or proofread.

It has been one hundred nine thousand, five hundred and sixty three days since Night last groomed Dream. That’s almost three million hours where Dream has been completely and utterly alone. It doesn’t matter how many friends he has, it doesn’t matter if he’s surrounded by people all the time. Because, the truth of the matter is, nobody will ever compare to his brother. 

“He’s evil.” Ink tells him. 

“Dwelling on the past is only going to hurt you more.” Blue tells him. 

“Maybe you should just forget him.” Cross tells him. 

He knows that his friends mean well, but they don’t know what it’s like. Not really, and Dream can’t really fault any of them for that. None of them have ever had a connection like Dream had with his other half. Night will always hold a piece of him, one that he will never manage to get back. Not that Dream wants it back. No, his brother can keep any part of him for as long as he’d like. Dream doesn’t care that it hurts. 

He wonders if it’s the same for him, the pain of separation. A meaner side of him wishes it was, so that he can know Night suffers like he does. If a part of Dream is missing, then surely, deep down, a part of him must be missing too. But as quickly as that thought comes, it goes and guilt swirls in the pit of his nonexistent stomach. For someone who supposedly guards positive emotions, he sure does have a lot of negative ones stewing inside of him. 

“Dude, you’ve been spacey all day.” Cross tells him. Dream blinks and glances at Cross. It’s a little too dark to make out his expression, Outertale verses always are, but Dream can only assume he’s got that concerned puppy-dog look on his face. 

Dream smiles brightly. “I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind, that is all.” 

“Right, I figured. That’s why we’re in Spacetale, right?”

“Outertale.” Dream corrects. “You know me so well.” He giggles, warmed. Sometimes, interacting with Cross can make the emptiness in his soul feel just a bit fuller. Cross has come a long way from that bitter and angry person Ink turned him into, and being able to see him slowly become what he used to be has been a joy. 

Cross says it’s because Dream saved him. It’s extremely validating, especially after failing time after time again. Knowing that he managed to help at least one person...well, it makes bearing his past so much easier. 

“Duh. You’re my best friend. Plus, you only ever come here whenever you’re super stressed out.” Cross points out. He shifts until he’s sitting with his legs crossed on the bench they’ve been resting at. On this hilltop, they can see billions of gorgeous stars splayed out on a sea of blues and purples. Yes, nothing else in the multiverse can compare to this sky. 

His wings twitch, the desire to take flight strong. He misses when Night was still Night, but that was back in a time when the both of them still had wings. They’d soar together for hours, nothing but them and the clouds. Night’s wings have long since been replaced with those unsightly tentacles. 

“Sorry for dragging you here.” Dream apologizes, guilt ridden at the fact that he’s most definitely wasting Cross’ time. “I just...don’t particularly like being alone.” Which is sort of a lie, but he’ll never admit to the real reason. Cross reminds him so much of who his brother used to be. Is it so wrong to want to be closer to him because of that? 

Cross shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Like a loyal puppy, Dream notes. He reminds him so much of Blue, despite having a good chunk of Classic’s coding. “Um, they’re kinda twitchy tonight. Are they uncomfortable?” 

Yes. He doesn’t fly often, not anymore. Teleporting is more convenient and they never stay in one place long enough to actually stretch them out. “I haven’t groomed them in a long time.” He confesses. 

Cross, a wingless Sans like the majority, has always seemed endlessly fascinated by them. He stares at them for longer than what would be deemed socially acceptable and Dream can practically see the question sitting at the top of his tongue. 

“Yes, you can do it if you’d like. I’ll guide you through it.” Cross jumps, like he wasn’t expecting to be called out. A lovely purple spreads across his cheeks, much too similar to the way Night used to blush before he was consumed. Dream inwardly cringes at that line of thought. He truly is an awful friend, unworthy of Cross’ companionship. 

“I-if you’re sure!” He stutters. Dream laughs openly at his flustered behaviour before standing up. Already his blackened headspace is lightened by Cross’ character. 

“Come on, let’s sit on the grass so I can spread them.” 

He nods and follows Dream’s lead, sitting behind him when they both plop down onto the grass. He stifles a soft gasp when Dream spreads them. The other skeleton realizes that he’s never even unfolded them in front of Cross before, and really that should be a crime. He used to be so prideful about them. 

“Touch.” He encourages. “Smooth the feathers down. If you see any that look loose, gently pull at them until they come free.” 

Cross makes an affirmative noise and without preamble, he begins to work on the right one. He strokes the golden feathers with gentleness, aweing at the way they feel beneath his phalanges. Cross isn’t the only one that has touched his feathers since Night, but he’s the first to groom him.

It almost feels wrong. This is a special and intimate ritual. It’s too late to back down now, and besides that Cross is surprisingly talented at grooming. He needs very little guidance and seems to know exactly where to massage and pull. Dream sighs contently as the shy touches grow more and more confident. He’s immensely glad that his wings are finally getting the care that they deserve. 

It’s a long process, each wing talking about fifteen minutes to pluck and smooth down. Dream wishes that he had an actual brush, and maybe some oil to coat them in. Lately, they’ve been losing their shine. But this will do. He can’t afford to be picky when there’s always things that must be done. Even now, he’s surprised he’s been allowed this long of a rest. 

“You did a wonderful job, Cross!” He praises after it's all said and done. He folds his wings and turns to face Cross, but grimaces at the pile of feathers next to him. Stars, he really let himself go. Dream is glad Cross doesn’t really know anything about wings, because if he did he’d be way more embarrassed about it. 

“Thanks.” He sheepishly mumbles. “I’m, uh, gunna go into town and get some food. Did you want to come with?” 

“No, I’m fine. I’d like to look at the stars more.” 

Cross doesn’t seem fazed. Is Dream that predictable? He watches Cross walk down the rocky path and then turns his attention back to this world’s sky. Next time he should take Blue, he knows how much his friend adores the place. 

“You really let anyone touch your wings nowadays, don’t you my dear brother?”

Dream does not look away from the stars. This is far from the first time his brother has crept up on Dream. Tonight, the guardian is not in the mood for fighting. He’s too relaxed, and perhaps a bit too melancholic to properly engage in an interaction like that. Night will probably just torment him until Cross gets back. Dream can tolerate being a verbal punching bag as long as he gets to see his brothers for a few minutes without having a physical altercation. 

“My wings don’t concern you, Night.” He says with a steady voice. He makes shapes in the stars, his own little constellations to distract from the rising anxiety. “Was there something that you wanted?” 

He can feel his presence near, that always presents aura of negativity giving him away. Right now, it’s intensified by his brother’s displeasure. Not that Night ever seems to be pleased in the first place. 

“They do when you act like a whore.” Night hisses. Dream tries not to let the comment sting. “I knew you and the little traitor were close but I didn’t know you were fucking.” 

This is going too far. Dream stands and turns to face Night. His brother is standing there, arms crossed and tentacles flailing angrily. In a dictionary, Night’s picture would be next to the word ‘enraged’. 

“What Cross and I do is between us, brother.” 

This isn’t the right thing to say. Night scoffs. “ _ Everything _ you do is my business. Especially when you’re prancing around and getting groomed in public. Have you no shame, Dream? I mean, I knew you were an idiot but-“

“I have not been your business in centuries.” His words are spoken with a tone of exasperation. “You don’t have any right to make me feel guilty about anything I do.” 

Night stalks closer and Dream stands his ground. He hasn’t seen his brother this pissed in a long time, but Dream meant every word he said. Even if he misses his brother dearly, he won’t have his friend’s dignity dragged through the mud. 

“I have every right to make you feel guilty! First you abandon me, and now you’re replacing me with the likes of him?” 

Dream freezes. Night is in his face now, his tentacles posed like they’re ready for attack. 

“Never.” He whispers, eyes downcast. “Nobody could ever replace you, Night. I’ll always love you more than anything else. But...but you can’t expect me to stay loyal to a relationship that you want no part in. We haven’t been together for centuries, why can’t you just let me move on?” 

“Absolutely not.” Night roughly grabs Dream by the face and forces them to make eye contact again. “You’re  _ mine _ . That’s never changed.”

Despite the joy those words bring him, anger also begins to dwell in his chest. “It did when you let me stay a statue for over a hundred years!” But Dream is the abandoner, the replacer? When Night would’ve let him rot for all of eternity? 

In what world is that fair?

Night looks like he’s been struck for a second, but as quick as the expression comes it’s replaced by a malicious smirk. “Lovely, positive Dream holding onto grudges? How pitiful!” 

Dream grits his teeth. He hopes Night can see the unshed tears of frustration welling up in his eye sockets, because maybe then the bastard will back off and let him go. It’s more probable that the sight will just egg him on, though. “Leave me be, brother. I’m not in the mood for our usual game.” 

“No? Then let’s play another one instead.” And for the first time in one hundred nine thousand, five hundred and sixty three days, Night kisses him. 

At first, Dream is confused. When realization clicks he sort of feels like crying. His hands grip onto his brother’s shoulders, clutching at them desperately as he presses his teeth back. All the anger and pain he had felt before is washed away by the euphoria of kissing Night again. 

Even with the slime-like substance coating his bone, kissing him feels the same like it always has. His wings give a happy flutter.

Night pulls away and Dream chases after him. “God, you truly are a slut. Kissing someone like me? Even after being with Cross? How disgusting. I bet your unfaithfulness would crush his pathetic soul.”

Strangling Night seems like a good idea right now. Dream gives him the nastiest glare he can manage, but it’s diluted by the fact that his teeth still tingle with soft magic. “I’m not in a relationship with him, you dummy. He’s my closest friend, of course I’d allow him to groom me! We aren’t having sex. I haven’t had sex with anybody since-” Since the last time we were together. For some reason he doesn’t actually want to say the words. 

“Since?” Night prompts for him to continue. 

“ _ You.”  _

Absolute silence. And then a scoff. “Bullshit.”

“I’m telling the truth! I haven’t had sex with anyone since you. How could I, when you’re all that could ever properly satisfy me?” The idea of Night believing his claims of abstinence to be deceitful fills him up with anger. Years of pretending he wasn’t insanely horny just to be called a liar by the very person that caused his dilemma? What a load of shit! 

Night rolls his eyes. “Am I supposed to believe that?” 

“How do you expect me to prove it, Night? I only have my words. Just because you broke our promise doesn’t mean I would. We swore under that miserable tree, didn’t we? That we belonged to each other and no one else. That oath means everything to me!  _ You  _ mean everything to me!” He’s panting now, emotions bursting out like an explosion. 

“Dream-”

“No! Let me talk! I know you want nothing but pain for me. I know you don’t feel the same way you used to, and I know that you’ll never truly belong to me again. But every single time I become willing to let you go, you come prancing back into my life with violence and hatred and horrible, terrible words. And now you want to say that I’m yours? After I finally found someone else who can help me move on from you?”

He does start crying this time. The ends of Night’s tentacles curl underneath his eye sockets, wiping away any tears that fall. “He can’t have you.” Night finally responds after a moment. “What you believe to be the truth is wrong. All of it.”

“If all of it is wrong, then what of Killer? Of Horror, or Dust, or even of Error?” Dream accuses, glaring heavily at his nonplussed brother. “I am not a fool, brother. And your... _ groupies  _ are hardly a secret in the multiverse. Even Classic knows about them, and he’s the most disconnected and purposefully ignorant skeleton I have ever met.”

“I’ve never had intercourse with any of them. Only  _ you _ are allowed to experience that with me.” Night insists. “I did not betray our promise. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.” 

Night’s perception of belonging is extremely skewed. Dream releases a shaky breath. “You still slept with them.” And man, saying it outloud like that hurts more than he could imagine. “Sex doesn’t have to be penetration, you know that. But I didn’t expect you to stay loyal to me so there is no need for you to try and defend yourself.” 

“Fucking hell, Dream.” Night growls. “Are you really that blind? They can’t fill your position. Fooling around with them is incomparable to what we used to do, and you know it.” 

Dream can’t continue this conversation. Maybe later, but the emotional agony he feels is too intense. So, he does the first thing that comes to mind. He kisses him again. And thankfully, Night gives in with just as much enthusiasm after a moment of hesitation. His movements are feverish, phalanges moving to both cradle Dream’s face and push him even closer to Night’s. He summons his tongue, cyan like the eyelights in his goopy socket. 

Dream replicates the action and moans unabashedly when their tongues make contact. Years of shoving down his sexual needs have led up to this moment. He wraps his arms around his brother and deepens the kiss further, and quickly it turns into a fight for dominance. Night wins easily, Dream has always been a victim to his strength.

“Please,” Dream whines when they break away again. “Fuck me. Please. I need it, it’s been  _ so  _ long Night. Fuck me, fuck me-“ 

“Shh.” Night hushes him. They’re so close now that it feels like their ribcages are going to mold together. Night rests his forehead against Dream’s and chuckles softly. “Don’t think I forgot about our conversation. But, really Dream? Just a kiss and you’re already begging for me to fuck you. You’re so vile.”

“Haven’t I always been like this?” Dream points out. Despite the fact that Night is more sexually active than Dream has been in centuries, he still has a higher libido. In the past, Dream would occasionally have to coerce his brother into fucking him. Now, he spends many lonely nights cumming into his hand as he mourns over his lost relationship. 

Back then they had sex nearly every night. How did Dream survive before now? Already he has forgotten now that he has his beloved in his arms once again. Even with the sting of betrayal, he’s still more than happy to do this with him. 

“Yes, always so insatiable. Nothing was ever enough for you, was it?” Night strokes the bones that make up his shoulder. His tentacles act as if they have a mind of their own, stroking and rubbing up against his clothing and teasing the bone he has exposed. It’s beginning to drive Dream wild. 

“You were always more than enough. I just liked having as much of you as I could get.” Dream quips back. “Nothing will ever satisfy me more than the feeling of your cock inside of me. Of course I was addicted to it.”

Night shudders. Dirty talk has always been a weak spot for him. “What a filthy mouth.”

“You only have yourself to blame for that, you know.” Everything he’s said in bed has been a direct copy of Night’s own lust induced ramblings. “Here, let me-” He goes to pull away but those tentacles suddenly wrap around him and squeeze. 

“You move when I tell you too.” Night murmurs. “I will remove your clothing when I see fit, understood?” 

Dream frowns. “It has been centuries, are you actually going to make me wait any longer?” 

“Patience is virtue.” Night rubs his thumb into the side of Dream’s skull in a soothing manner. It’s hard to forget that not even five minutes ago they were arguing. Night is especially talented at making Dream forget himself and his morals. 

“Night.” He whines. “Please, we don’t have time for this. Cross will be back soon.”

“Good. Then Cross will see me claim you again.” 

The darkness to his tone makes Dream seize up. He doesn’t like the way he spits Cross’ name out with venom either. “There’s no need to do that. I’m already yours, Night.”

“That may be so, but has your body remembered that? I need to be very thorough so that it may never forget again.” He presses his teeth to Dream’s cheekbone. Just like he used to. Dream swallows down a pained noise. 

“Can’t we do that later? If you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.” 

“You will be fine.”

A hand moves to delicately stroke the soft feathers of his wings. They twitch underneath his brother’s touch, and Dream would be lying if he said it wasn’t a bit unsettling. Night’s hands are cold and textured strangely, a stark difference to the warmth they possessed so many years ago. But regardless, it’s still Night that’s touching his wings again. Dream whimpers softly. 

“You’ve been keeping them in awful shape.” Night points out, vaguely amused. Dream pointedly does not look over to the pile of feathers left from his earlier grooming session. “Look at how dull they are, once upon a time you would’ve refused to go out in public looking like this.”

“And once upon a time, you were there to help me take care of them.” And he gladly returned the favor. Dream tries not to mourn the loss of his brother’s wings, which were such a dark shade of purple they almost looked black. They were more sensitive than Dream’s, and he was awfully ticklish. Dream wonders if his tentacles are ticklish too. Could he draw out another playful giggle if he rubbed them a certain way? 

Night stops toying with the feathers. “And what are you so happy about all of a sudden?” 

“Nothing.” He responds quickly. Too quickly. Night’s eyes narrow but he makes no further comment. Instead, he lets go of his wings and begins to undo the buttons of his tunic. Finally, progress! Dream is giddy with anticipation. 

“You wear such tacky clothing.” Night criticizes as he unbuckles Dream’s belt. “Too bright and too colorful. Must you try to make a point with this hideous fashion?” 

“I find it funny that someone who dresses like Classic has complaints on the way I dress.” Dream snaps back, now thoroughly frustrated at the slow progress. “You’re him without a Papyrus to do his laundry.” 

For what it’s worth, Night does his best to not look offended. “Hah.” He laughs dryly. “The closest thing I have to Papyrus is you, and the last thing I’d do is ever let you touch my laundry. You might try to infect it with your gross color pallet.” 

“It’s not like it would matter. Everything you wear turns goopy and black.” 

“... _ Goopy?”  _

It’s not like Dream told a lie. “If you carry on with what we were doing before you decided to insult me, I just might apologize.” 

Night vengefully shoves his knee in between Dream’s legs and grinds his patella into the hidden mound hidden by his trousers. Dream yelps at the sudden stimulation. “So forgetful. I already told you that I’m the one calling the shots here.” 

The grind is harsh and borderline painful with no ecto-body covering his bone. Does Night even still have one, or is it all slimey bone? But despite the slight discomfort, it still forces the fabric of his pants to rub against his clit just right. Dream is so lost in the feeling of it that he doesn’t notice how his belt has been removed.

He whines in protest when the knee moves away, but the sound turns into a gasp when his pants drop to his ankles and cold air hits his exposed cunt. 

“What a sight for sore eyes.” Night cooes. “How long has it been since I saw you so bare?” Fingers slip between his legs and stroke at his slit. 

“Too long.” He whispers. He drops his head onto Night’s shoulder and breathes in deeply. He smells like an amalgamation of different things, none of them nostalgic to the small of old books and ink. It is still undeniably the smell of his brother though. 

The chill of Night’s phalanges on his pussy feels wonderful. He plays with his folds teasingly, never quite touching the places that tend to drive Dream deeper off the edge.

“Does Cross make you this wet?” Night asks directly into his ear-canal. He’s started flicking Dream’s clit lightly. Dream squirms. 

“Only you.” Dream assures. 

Except…perhaps, once or twice, Cross has slipped into his nightly fantasies. But so has Ink and Blue, and even Edge on one strange occasion. Normally he’s not attracted to any Papyrus, but there’s something about that skeleton that is so undeniably sexy. Night certainly doesn’t have to know about that though. 

He shouldn’t feel ashamed anyways. Night has touched and has been touched by others, while Dream has only ever had him.    
  


“Good. A loyal pet deserves an award.” He stops touching his cunt and allows his tentacles to release Dream from their hold. Gently, guides Dream to lay down on the grass. Dream obediently complies, unfurling his wings so they can spread on the ground as well. Laying on them folded up tends to be uncomfortable, after all. It’s why he prefers lying on his stomach. 

Night situates himself between Dream’s legs, still fully clothed. The polyester of his shorts creates a barrier between his cunt and Night’s pelvis. Something tells Dream that it will be a long time before he gets to see his brother bare boned again. Hopefully this isn’t a one time thing. He prays that it’s not because his soul cannot stand anymore longing. To have a taste again and then to have it ripped away sounds unbearable. 

“Now you’re beneath me, where you belong.” Why must a kissable face be so punchable?

Night silences any response with a kiss. He must be getting impatient too, if he’s willing to put a stop to their bantering. He rocks his pelvis into his pussy once the kiss deepens, and they spend what seems to be forever intertwining tongues and moaning into each other’s mouths. Night has certainly gotten better at kissing, because he throws in a few tricks that he never used before in the past.

Eventually, something wet and cold pressed against his folds. Dream wraps his legs around his brother’s waist and encourages him to move forward, to which Night happily complies. When he slides completely in with one smooth thrust, Dream breaks the kiss to groan. After years of nothing but his fingers and the few toys he can afford, he finally has the real deal. 

“As tight as a virgin.” Night praises. He grins down at him, and Dream smiles back up at him. 

“I might as well be, after staying celibate for centuries.” This moment makes all those years well worth it. 

Night chuckles softly and slowly begins to rock his hips into Dream’s pulsating cunt. He feels so much different than he did before his body changed. His dick feels a whole lot like a tentacle, and Dream wouldn’t be surprised if it was. 

Their fingers intertwine. Dream looks him dead in the eye, his expression relaxed and blissful. “I missed you so much.” 

There is no verbal reply. But his dick squirms, confirming Dream’s suspicions. He kicks it up, steady rocking turning into hard thrusts. Not once do they break eye contact. It makes everything so much more intense, and they drink each other’s reactions up like it’s a lifeline. They relearn each other, every thrust and every clench more confident than the last. 

White, hot pleasure crashes through Dream and Night follows along with him, filling his beloved up with his essence. 

During the peak, Night squeezes him tight and says the words he’s been wanting to hear for so long. “I missed you too.” It’s so soft that he almost misses it. 

Dream begins to weep. 

-

When Cross comes back, hours later and a drunken flush to his face, he finds Dream sprawled out on the ground. His clothes are wrinkled and his bones seem to be stained yellow. In his alcohol buzzed mind, Cross envisions him as the hottest angel to ever live. 

“Sorry.” He slurs out. He stumbles over to Dream and plops down next to him. “Lost track of time.” 

“I suppose you met this world’s Sans?” Dream asks, eyes following patterns in the sky. 

Cross tries not to blush as memories flood him. Oh yeah, he definitely met this world’s Sans in the most personal ways possible. He went to Grillby’s with the intention of buying a chocolate milkshake, but Space Dude (the name he secretly gave this Sans) had insisted they drink together. 

One drink led to five and then Grillby’s led to Space Dude’s bedroom. His pelvis still aches after being fucked so thoroughly. For a Sans that’s basically Classic but with more stars, he sure is energetic in the bed. Cross never expected it. 

“How did you know?” 

“He’s sort of an alcoholic, I figured he bullied you into drinking with him. Error has to stay away from Grillby’s when he comes here because this Sans is ruthless in collecting drinking companions” 

Cross laughs, because the imagery of Error being bullied by such a chill guy is funny. “Was I gone for long.”

“I’m not sure. I took a nap. Actually, I think I might take another one. Care to join me?”

A nap sounds fucking awesome. He nods and lays as close to Dream as socially acceptable. But, Dream is having none of that. He shuffles into Cross’ personal space and is oblivious to the way he tenses up at the action. 

“I changed my mind. Can I vent?” 

Cross is too drunk to properly listen. After a few rounds of sex, Space Dude had filled him up with moonshine and sent him on his way. But he still nods, because he loves Dream and would do anything to make him happy. “Yeah, of course dude. What’s up?” 

“Night and I used to be exclusive. We used to have sex with each other and only each other, and then he went and ate those stupid apples and became all goopy and let me rot away in a rock for like, a century. But I stay celibate just for him, and I don’t think it matters because he has sex with all of his little...minions!” 

Cross chokes. This is a lot to take in. “Uh. I only sucked his dick once, if that makes you feel better?”

Dream sniffles. “It doesn’t but I appreciate the thought. I just...am I not good enough anymore? Was I ever good enough in the first place? He tells me nobody can fulfil my place in his life and then he fucks me and acts like I actually mean something to him and then guess what? He leaves me five minutes later! Back to his stupid dumb horrible castle I bet, to have sex with his stupid dumb horrible pets.”

“...” What is Cross supposed to say? Which part does he respond to? Wait, hold on, when did they have sex again? Cross is so confused. “I think you’re good enough.”

“Thank you, Cross. Anyways, I just feel...so lonely. He gave me so much happiness tonight and now It’s all cold and empty. I...I feel  _ used.  _ But I still love him so much.”

Cross wishes he would’ve said no to the moonshine now. “Nightmare. Uh, he doesn’t...just because he acts like he doesn’t care doesn’t mean he...um. Doesn’t. Maybe he’s...he’s...scared?” 

“Scared?” Dream looks at him with such hopeful eyes that Cross starts grasping for conclusions that probably aren’t all that close to the truth.

“Yeah. Of losing you again. Maybe he’s scared he’ll mess up, so he left super fast.” 

He smiles at Cross. It’s such a pretty sight, one that makes him giddy. “...You know, perhaps you’re right. Thank you for listening to me ramble, I think now I’m going to actually take a nap.”

“Anytime.” 

Okay, so maybe Cross isn’t as big of a fuck up as he previously thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> Cross is not a good therapist smh


End file.
